Earth Afire

A searing burst of light punctuated the chaos, and the projected feed went to black.

 

For a brief moment the villagers were too shocked to speak. Then everyone began shouting out at once, getting to their feet, calling out names, searching for others in the crowd, picking up children, telling loved ones to hurry, rushing for the village stairs that led down to the fields. Several of the men were calling for calm, but no one seemed to be listening.

 

“Bingwen!”

 

Bingwen looked down. Mother was below, frantically waving for him to get off the roof.

 

“I’m coming!”

 

“What do we do?” said Hopper. Tears were running down his cheeks, but he seemed not to notice.

 

Bingwen grabbed him by the arms. “Hop! Look at me. Look at my face. That ship is in space and we are down here. You understand? It’s far away. We’re safe.”

 

Hop blinked, nodded.

 

“We need to help everyone stay calm. All right? Someone’s going to get hurt if we don’t. I need you to have a clear head.”

 

Hopper blinked again, nodding, coming to himself. He wiped at his eyes with his sleeve. “Right. Yes. Sorry. What do you want me to do?”

 

“Come with me.”

 

They ran and retrieved the ladder, lowered it over the side, then slid to the ground. Bingwen hastily hid the ladder in the grass, then he and Hopper sprinted to the front of the building. Mother was there. She scooped Bingwen up into her arms. Father arrived a moment later, half carrying, half dragging Grandfather, who was holding his side and wincing.

 

“What happened?” said Mother.

 

“Crowd pushed him over on the stairs,” said Father. “Nearly trampled him. It’s madness. They would’ve killed him if I hadn’t pulled him out.”

 

He lowered Grandfather to the ground, who clutched at his chest, gritting his teeth.

 

“Your heart,” said Mother. There was panic in her voice.

 

“I’m fine,” said Grandfather, waving the concern away. “Bruises is all.”

 

“Broken ribs is more like it,” said Father. “Maybe more.”

 

A toddler nearby, a young girl, stood alone, crying. People ran by her, oblivious, ignoring her. Bingwen nodded to Hopper, who understood at once and ran to the girl, kneeling beside her, putting an arm around her, comforting her, scanning the crowd for her mother. The child screamed on.

 

“Bastards,” wheezed Grandfather. “No respect for their elders. Knocked me over like a herd of water buffalo. I should carry a cane. I could’ve beat a few of them.” He turned his head to Bingwen. “That mud sucker who gives you problems. The one that’s all bluster.”

 

“Zihao,” said Bingwen.

 

“That’s the one. Stepped on my kidney. Looked me right in the eye, too. No honor. I’ll cut his liver out if I ever see him again.”

 

“Don’t talk,” said Mother.

 

“I’m fine,” said Grandfather. “I can walk. Give me a minute.” He tried to sit up, winced, and fell back.

 

“I’ll stay with him,” said Bingwen. “We’ll catch up with you later.”

 

Mother looked uncertain.

 

“Nobody’s staying with me,” said Grandfather. “I’m going at my own speed and pace. Don’t know what all the rush is anyway. Alien ship blows up a few news shuttles, and everyone pisses their britches. Running around like fools won’t accomplish anything.”

 

“He’s right,” said Bingwen. “This panic is only making things worse.”

 

“I’ll stay with him,” said Father. “Bingwen, get your mother home.”

 

“We’re staying together,” said Mother.

 

“Only person who’s staying is me,” says Grandfather. “Am I not to be respected?”

 

“Not this time,” said Father.

 

“Then leave me with Bingwen,” said Grandfather. He pointed at Father. “If I go with you, I’ll never hear the end of your complaints. All the way home, it’ll be how I should be more careful, how it’s my fault I fell, how I’m a burden.”

 

“You should be more careful,” said Father.

 

“You’re no burden, Father,” said Mother.

 

“Leave me with the boy,” said Grandfather.

 

“You can’t even walk,” said Father. “Bingwen can’t carry you.”

 

Grandfather pushed himself up, wincing, but he got to his feet this time. “I don’t need carrying. We’ll be right behind you. Go. Before someone ransacks our home and takes what little food we have.”

 

Mother and Father exchanged nervous glances.

 

“What,” said Grandfather, “you think these people will suddenly be civilized when they go home? They’re stirred up like hornets. If they fear there’s a fight ahead, they’ll think only of themselves and stockpile whatever they get their hands on.”

 

Father looked back toward the retreating crowd. Mother covered her mouth with a hand, afraid. Bingwen almost told them then. Don’t worry. I have supplies. I know you told me not to, Father, but I buried some tools and cans and rice sacks up at the top of the hill above the village. We’ll be fine. For a little while at least.

 

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